Vagary (ACT 1)
by AthenaxVio
Summary: Noun. An unpredictable instance, a wandering journey; a whimsical, wild, or unusual idea, desire, or action. (Vidow / Red/Blue) Manga continuation.
1. Limerence

_Limerence_

 _Noun_. Compulsory longing for another person.

* * *

It was foolish. His entire plan was foolish. It wasn't even a _plan_ , really, it was a feeling, a hot burn in his gut and an itching in the ink settled just below the skin of his wrist and a tugging in his chest that kept his feet plodding against the worn trail away from his duty and towards...something. A promise, a hope, a whisper of a person not ready to give in to grieving, right before he had to give in to three other people's thoughts and feelings. He'd be forgotten. They'd both be forgotten.

Vio had made a run for it as soon as the others weren't looking. Blue and Green had been fighting over Zelda, Red talking to their father. They were so loud, and it was too easy to slip to the entrance of the Sanctuary, and then slip _out_ , and then he was- well, he wasn't free because there was nothing he needed to be free from, but he ran regardless, as fast as his legs could carry him, pack thumping rhythmically and heavily against his back. It almost hurt, but the pain focused him, helped him keep a steady pace so that he wouldn't tire as fast; thus, he was grateful for it.

It took about five minutes before he heard the muffled shouting- he was glad he couldn't hear what they were saying, although he figured they were calling for him. Had he been closer, his resolve would have broken- he would have run back, pretended it was a prank, regretted leaving, regretted staying, regretted regretted regretted. Hell, he was regretting now- or at least he was trying to, underneath the rest of his warring emotions.

 _Better not to think,_ Vio thought, _better not to feel, better just to run until the next town, until I get a horse, until I have the breath to plan this out. Or at least plan this out more than it has already been planned, which it hasn't._

He was foolish.

He watched him fade away.

He was running towards him anyway.


	2. Phosphenes

_Phosphenes_

 _Noun._ The light and colors produced by rubbing your eyes.

* * *

Everything was made of light for a moment. It was warm and pure and calm and cradled him in a way that the shadows he lived in never could- and he wished he could have stayed in it forever.

Wishes are fleeting and fragile though; because when Shadow opened his eyes the light, the warmth, the calmness- it all shattered, piled at his feet like broken glass.

He blinked blearily, taking in the arched black ceiling, the lit torches- cold and colored purple- reflecting off the glass-like stonework. The bed beneath him was soft, the covers warm and at the same time not; he immediately became aware of the sweat sticky on the back of his neck. His entire body hurt and he could tell he had been lying in this bed- in this room- for quite a long time.

Whispers echoed in the chamber.

 _"The king is awake, hurry- fetch the physician, fetch his advisors-!"_

Shadow made an unattractive noise, bringing his arm up to drag across his eyes- oh, how lovely, instead of doing what he wanted it to it gave up and flopped onto his stomach. Wetting his lips, he tried speaking.

"My-" He cut himself off, grimaced. His voice was wheezing, cracked with disuse, but he expected that to be the case. What bothered him was that...his voice sounded foreign to him, but at the same time familiar- it was too regal, too authoritative (and he sensed that he had authority before- before what?- but not enough to speak in such a way), too formal. It fit him, and it did not, all in the same breath.

"My advisors," he tried again, somewhat pleased when his voice sounded out stronger than before, "are idiots. Tell me what is going on. Where's Nicola?"

"Right here Liege," came from his left and a mild sense of relief washed through him. Shadow attempted to sit up again, somewhat more successfully this time as Nicola's hand on his back steadied him. He glanced at her, and for a moment silver hair was gold and violet eyes were blue and dark skin was pale- but then his brow furrowed, he blinked, the image vanished, and Nicola was speaking.

"You shouldn't waste your strength, Your Highness," she murmured to him, quiet enough that only he could hear. Her face was pinched in concern, lips pressed together in a thin line. "You have been asleep for a long time."

"How long?" Shadow demanded, gratefully accepting the cup of water that Nicola handed him. As he lifted it to his lips, his sleeve fell down and he caught sight of pitch black thorns encircling his wrist.

The cup fell to the bed, and then the floor with a clatter. Shadow yanked his sleeve back down, staring at his suddenly shaking hand with eyes dilated in horror. He stumbled from his bed on unsteady legs, ignoring Nicola, the physician and his advisor's protests that he not get up so quickly.

"Out...everybody _OUT!"_ Shadow bellowed, shoving away the physician and nearly falling into his dresser. He watched through the mirror as his servants left his room, ushered out the door by Nicola, and then stared at his disheveled plum-colored hair and his own pale, gaunt face in disbelief. As Nicola started to leave the room as well, he called out to her.

"Not you. Stay. Please." His voice cracked on 'please', and Nicola merely closed the doors to his room and bolted them shut in response. "Tell me what has happened since I've been…asleep."

"Only if you tell me what's on your wrist...Shadow." She replied, crossing the room to stand at his side. Shadow stood straight and whirled to face her, eyes blazing.

 _"What does it look like?"_ He hissed, yanking his sleeve to bear the ink to light. _"What else could it be?"_

Nicola didn't answer him. She merely looked at the thorns encircling his wrist with an expression of sorrow.

"You've been asleep for several months now," she began quietly, crossing her arms. "The physicians put you in a stasis crystal on the second day of your coma. Your mother went to duel with the warlord of the Reflections in the third month."

"And?"

"...And they both perished. The council will want you to be coronated as king as soon as possible."


	3. Compunction

_Compunction_

 _Noun._ A feeling of uneasiness or anxiety of the conscience caused by regret for doing wrong or causing pain; remorse.

* * *

Vio came upon the trading post when the last of the sun's rays had disappeared behind the southern mountains. The stable was already shut down, but he was lucky enough to beg a last minute meal and room from the innkeeper, and with the last of his meager supply of rupees he ensured that if someone came in asking about him that she'd stay quiet.

"Who'd come in asking for a nice young man like you?" She asked him as she set a bowl of soup on the table for him. Vio looked down at the bowl for a long moment, his stomach churning with anxiety.

"I don't know." He mumbled finally, spooning some soup into his mouth and nearly choking when it burned his tongue and throat. The innkeeper fussed over him and it took a glass of water and three minutes of reassurance that yes, he was alright, for her to leave him be. When she did, he all but inhaled the rest of his soup and stumbled up to his room, ready to collapse.

 _Green and the others would have hopefully gone back by now,_ he thought as he lay on the lumpy, straw-stuffed mattress. _He would want to regroup, and get horses. And make a plan._

Vio couldn't help but hope that his assumptions of Green's character and behavior would be correct. It would be the smart thing for a leader to do- the intelligent thing. Blue had mellowed out somewhat during the time that Vio was playing spy, so he figured that Blue would follow Green's orders, even if what he really wanted to do was track down Vio and kick his arse all the way back to the Four Sword Sanctuary. And Red?

Vio had no idea what Red would think or do. _He's probably upset that I didn't at least say goodbye,_ Vio mused with a half-hearted smile, _or that I didn't ask them to come with me._

"But I'm sure he would understand why I left without telling them. Green and Blue are too bound to their sense of duty. He would insist that we return the sword. I do not think even Zelda would be able to convince him to do otherwise." He said aloud, rolling onto his stomach. His eyes pricked with tears at the thought of what his father might say; he had abandoned his duty for...for what?

Vio pulled down his sleeve, staring at the obsidian tangle of thorns etched into the skin of his wrist. His wrist itched where the ink sat, and he felt a faint tugging sensation pulse just beneath his skin- he could have sworn that between blinks, the tattoo writhed slowly.

"For a magic...tattoo...and a gut feeling that somebody you watched die is actually still alive." He sighed slowly. Even to himself he sounded insane; Vio couldn't imagine what Red or Blue or Green would think. Guilt settled into his chest once again, hard and heavy as if he'd been hit full-on by an Octorok's missile, and he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

 _"I am not sure that this is a good idea Shadow." Vio said, watching as Shadow bustled back and forth between a desk covered in ritual ingredients and a small, leatherbound book. "You've never done this before."_

 _"But I've seen it done plenty of times to myself! I promise this will go without a hitch- I'm being really careful." Shadow replied, looking at Vio with warm eyes and a reassuring grin. Vio felt his cheeks start to flush and dropped his gaze, mentally cursing his pounding heart and Shadow's stupid charismatic personality._

 _Gods damn it! He couldn't be having these feelings, he was on a mission for Hylia's sake- gain Shadow's trust, learn his and Vaati's weaknesses, exploit them if he can and get out safely with the information if not. He hoped the gods would forgive him for his own weakness, because he didn't know if he could hold the charade much longer._

 _Shadow was just...different, from what Vio thought he would be. Yes, he'd kidnapped Princess Zelda and destroyed the castle and yes, he'd sent Vio's (_ Link's _, he thought to himself-) father and fellow knights to the Dark World, but when Vio accepted Shadow's invitation to join his side, he'd never thought that Shadow would actually be considerate or accommodating or so damn eager to please. Shadow was...lonely, and easily excited and so thrilled that Vio was there and willing to be his partner and even maybe his friend._

 _Vio felt...so, so guilty._

 _"Hey. Are you okay?" Shadow's voice sounded startlingly closer to Vio from where he'd heard it before and he looked up to find Shadow kneeling in front of him. For a brief moment, he envisioned the time he saw a knight propose to the baker's daughter in the town square, and he had to blink violently to get rid of the image. Shadow's deep ruby eyes searched Vio's face with concern, and Vio could not tear his gaze away._

 _"You know you don't have to do this if you don't want to. It has to be voluntary for the magic to work right." He said gently, taking Vio's hand and squeezing it. "I wouldn't force you to do anything you didn't want to."_

 _Vio didn't say anything in response, forcing himself to think past his feelings for a minute. He looked down at his and Shadow's joined hands, at how pale Shadow's hand was compared to his and the ink winding its way almost up to his wrist from where his rolled up sleeves ended. He thought about Princess Zelda, and Red and Green and Blue, and his father, all depending on him to follow through with his plan. He thought about how Shadow might suspect him if he refused and then he thought about how he didn't want to refuse._

 _"Will it hurt?" He asked finally, his voice cracking from barely concealed stress. Shadow smiled up at him and rubbed his thumb over Vio's knuckles soothingly._

 _"It'll sting a little bit, but it won't hurt as bad as you might think, I promise. It's gonna be really small and the smaller it is, the less time it takes to ink it in."_

 _Vio's throat had closed up, so instead of speaking he gave Shadow a small smile and nodded in response. Shadow stood up and walked back over to the workbench, and Vio could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes._


	4. Abscond

_Abscond_

 _Verb._ To sneak away and hide.

* * *

Vio awoke with a start, a sob lodged in his throat. His wrist throbbed and he sat up gingerly, blinking blearily at the dark room. The sound of rain drumming on the roof brought him slipping out of bed to peer out the window- the world outside was drenched in a steady downpour and the sky was a dark, foreboding gray. He could just make out the shape of the stable, with smaller alcove jutting out the side that served as a temporary shelter for travelers horses when their owners only wished to stop for a short time. Vio stood there, staring at the alcove for a long while before he realized he could see movement within- the shifting of three horses and the flicking of their tails and manes.

He couldn't recall having seen horses there before, nor could he recall anyone besides him arriving at the post. Vio swallowed heavily as he registered the soft sounds of talking floating from the commons of the inn.

With a flurry of motion Vio whirled away from the window, pulling on his boots as quickly and silently as he could, panic welling up in his chest. He pulled his cloak from his pack, then his pack over his shoulders and his cloak over both him and his pack, pulling the deep hood over his head so that it hid his face and hair. Cautiously he opened the door to his room, hardly daring to breathe as he poked his head out, eyes trained on the staircase. He could just barely hear the conversation, and judging by the pitch of their voice- always a tad higher than the others- it was Red speaking.

"...Worried for him. It's not like him to just run off like that. He didn't even leave a note or anything to tell us where he was going."

"I'm sorry dears, but I haven't seen anyone that looked like you three pass by today." Vio sighed with relief- the innkeeper had kept her promise, although he was sure she was suspicious at this point. Still, he couldn't go out through the front without arousing even _more_ suspicion, so he stepped back into his room, closing the door quietly, then crossed over to the window.

 _It's not too far of a jump_ , Vio thought as he pushed the window open, _and it's not as if I'm jumping over a lava-filled chasm. I'll just have to be careful of the mud._

The rain was still steadily pouring, and water streamed off the edge of the roof just past the window to Vio's rented room. Vio grimaced as he climbed up onto the sill and his shoulders and head caught some of the rainwater, his cloak slowly soaking in the unwanted shower. He took a deep breath, and then dropped down.

His heart flew to his throat, and he bit his tongue as he landed on hands and knees. Mud splattered up his arms and against the white of his leggings, but he took no notice of that, nor of the bitter taste of blood filling his mouth- he only scrambled to his feet, cursing under his breath as he rolled his ankle in the slick soil.

Ducking his head against the rain, Vio slipped and squelched across the road towards the stables. The horses did not seem startled when he slipped into the alcove where they were sheltered- he saw Epona, his ( _Link's_ , he chided himself-) silver bay mare, even look at him and then flick her tail in disinterest as she turned away again.

The black stallion that stood next to Epona warily watched Vio approach, but stood still as he combed through his saddlebag. _Blue you idiot,_ Vio frowned, pulling out a hefty sack that jingled with rupees, _what made you think leaving your money in the saddlebag would be a good idea?_

Still, he couldn't help but feel grateful that Blue was conservative with his money, even if it was purely because the half that went into Vio's own empty wallet.

"...We'll just have to keep looking then. Vio should have stopped to rest by this point."

"I wish we could stop and rest."

"Thank you miss. We're so sorry we ended up here so late-"

"Fuck," Vio hissed, yanking the saddlebag off of the saddle- he didn't want to steal _all_ of Blue's things- and dropping it to the ground, "Fuck, they couldn't have stayed in there for five more minutes-"

The stallion did not like being ushered out into the rain, despite Vio's hushed reassurances, but he didn't necessarily fight back either. Vio started cursing beneath his breath again at Blue's indignant "Hey- that's my horse!," as- once he'd crossed the threshold of the alcove- he vaulted up into the saddle. Blue's horse reared in protest and Vio's hood fell down at the same moment he risked a terrified glance at the inn.

Green and Blue and Red stood in the middle of the road, all gaping at him with some degree of shock. Blue started toward him, face curling into a furious snarl, with Green, his jaw set in determination, following close behind. Only Red stood still, brow furrowed in worry.

"Vio, wait!" He called, but his cry was lost to the sound of the rain as Vio turned his stolen horse away, urging it into a gallop. Blue skidded to a stop, shaking his fist and yelling at Vio.

"I'm sorry," Vio gasped, looking over his shoulder at his friends and comrades standing in the muck and rain, "please, forgive me for this."

They couldn't hear him.


	5. Opia

_Opia_

 _Noun_. The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

* * *

"That thieving son of a bitch-" Blue snarled, glaring at Vio's retreating back. "I'm going to fucking _kill_ him once we get ahold of him. _Screw_ putting the sword back!"

Green started towards the alcove where Epona and Red's horse were still sheltered, his shoulders hunched. Red jogged lightly after him and ducked underneath the alcove once he arrived, rubbing his arms and shivering.

"What are we going to do Green?" He asked, eyebrows knitting together in worry. Green scowled, busy unlooping Epona's reins from the hitching post.

"We're going after him." He replied shortly, picking up Blue's saddlebag and tossing it to Red, who almost fumbled the catch. Blue stared at Green from where he came to stand next to Red, making an indignant noise. Green turned around to look at him, an annoyed frown on his face.

"Excuse me?" Blue snapped, sky-colored eyes blazing. He crossed his arms and leered at Green, looking for all the world like a petulant child mouthing off to their parent. "I don't know if you noticed, but Vio just fucking _stole my horse!"_

"So you ride with Red!" Green snapped back, leading Epona out of the alcove and pointedly keeping his back to Blue. "You can both fit in the saddle, neither of you are _that_ heavy!"

"B-but Green-" Red began, shoving Blue's saddlebag at him and then unlooping the reins of his own horse, "It's so dark, how will we find him? And what about the rain?"

Green didn't answer, mounting Epona and turning her in the direction that Vio had gone. He squinted into the downpour as if trying to gauge how far Vio could have gotten in the short time since he disappeared into the night. Red led his horse out from the alcove to stand beside him and Epona, and Blue hooked his saddlebag onto Red's saddle. Green didn't look at either of them when he finally replied.

"We're just going to go in the direction he went and hope the rain doesn't cover up his tracks too badly. I'm not stopping until we catch him."

Blue and Red looked at each other for a long moment, disbelief and concern furrowing their eyebrows.

"We've been chasing after him for hours now," Blue said, hopping up into the saddle of Red's horse, "aren't you exhausted?"

"Exhausted or not, I'm not stopping." Green watched as Blue helped Red up into the saddle behind him. Red met Green's gaze, lips pressed into a thin line. Green shook his head and turned away again. "You can trade off sleeping in the saddle if you're tired, but I don't want to lose the trail. Princess Zelda gave us our orders and I intend to follow them." He said with an air of finality, and then spurred Epona into a canter. Blue urged his own horse to follow at the same pace, and Red sighed loudly, leaning into his back.

"Princess Zelda wouldn't ask us to exhaust ourselves…" He murmured into Blue's shoulder, quiet enough that Green couldn't hear. Blue only grunted in agreement, eyes trained on the road ahead.


	6. Petrichor

_Petrichor_

 _Noun._ The smell of the earth after rain.

* * *

It was the incessant hooting of an owl that pulled Vio from sleep; sunlight streamed through the trailing branches of the weeping willow that he was curled beneath, and he screwed his face up against the light that got in his eyes. His horse scuffed the ground with his hooves, and Vio saw the broad black muzzle part the hanging branches and snort at him- Vio snorted back.

The owl started hooting again, and Vio smacked his hand down on a root, scowling. He shuffled on hands and knees out from under the tree, ignoring the feeling of damp soil squishing between his fingers, and stumbled to his feet, glaring in the direction that the hooting was coming from.

Perched on top of a road sign, the owl was huge, nearly as tall as Vio himself, and brown in color. Two very long striped feathers extended from above its beak, looking very much like eyebrows, and it stared at Vio in a way that was unnervingly human-like.

"Do you mind?!" Vio snapped, planting his fists on his hips, not even bothering to think about how ridiculous he would look should anybody see him yelling at an _owl_ of all things. "I am trying to get some hard-earned rest! I have been running all night, I am hungry, my head is _pounding-"_

"And you are wasting time?" The owl turned its head upside down as it spoke. Vio blinked- well- owlishly.

"I….did you just…?"

"Talk?" His- the owl's- voice was amused. He flipped his head right-ways up again. "You ask me this as if it is more ridiculous a concept than one person splitting into four, or children being turned into toys, or a shadow defeating his light's enemy."

Vio opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a startled squeak, so he closed it again and merely stared up at the massive bird in shock.

"Bird got your tongue? Ohohohohoho!" The owl's head dipped down in what looked like a slight bow. "Allow me to introduce myself: I am Kaepora Gaebora."

"Er...pleased to meet you, I think?" Vio replied, his head tilting. Curiosity overtook his confusion, and he took a step closer. "You...know of me?"

"Who does not know of you, young man?" Kaepora hooted, shifting in place on his perch. "You and your compatriots did a great deed, defeating the Wind Mage and the Demon King. And _you-"_ He leaned forward, looming over Vio with a stern look- "have made quite a stir with your escape."

Vio cleared his throat and stepped backward a few paces, a hand nervously reaching for his bow. Kaepora's head turned upside down.

"Do you know where you ended up, hero?" He asked. Vio glanced at the tree he'd taken shelter under, then his horse. He warily looked at the owl before turning in a circle, scanning his surroundings. There was a field to his back, and a forest to his front that was almost too silent.

"This is...the border of Hyrule Field and the Lost Woods?" Vio replied uncertainly, pale blue eyes trained back on Kaepora.

"Hoo hoo! Astute observation. And do you know where you must go to get to the place that you want to be?" The owl leaned back, and spread open his wings.

"Through the forest." Vio said, gears in his mind already turning as he wondered how he would find his way through.

"Then I leave you with a warning: do not trust the sisters that guard the woods. They will try to lead you astray on your journey; however, if you can strike a bargain with them, you may yet learn some valuable things about the history of Hyrule- things that will help you later." Kaepora tilted his head at Vio, eyebrow-like feathers opening and closing like scissors. "Do you want to hear what I said again?"

"I- no, I've got it, but-" Vio was cut off as Kaepora took flight, massive wings whipping up such a powerful wind that it lifted the dew off of the grass and into the air, and startled Vio's horse. Vio cursed, rubbing water out of his eyes as the owl flew off into the mid-morning sun, a single feather left in his wake.


	7. Kuebiko

_Kuebiko_

 _Noun_. A state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence.

* * *

Shadow looked into a sea of faces, hyper aware of the all the eyes staring, staring at him and the sound of the blood roaring in his ears. Wind howled through the opened clerestory windows, making the tapestries hanging from the ceiling sway the same way Shadow hoped he wasn't. His sword, made of blacksteel that eerily reflected the dim light of the Shadow Realm, hung heavy in his hand. He glanced up at Nicola, sitting in the podium of the colosseum as the acting referee. He didn't know what they had to referee; what was the point in fairness when the goal of the ceremony itself was to not die?

He turned his gaze back to the crowd in front of him. They were allowed to challenge him one at a time, but there was no telling what some people would do. Shadow thought about the stories he'd heard about his mother's coronation, and how a set of twins had challenged her at the same time, and how she'd slaughtered them both- not to spare her own life, but to spare them from having to turn on each other. He'd laughed off the stories. He'd thought his mother was invincible- that she could never be beaten and would eventually die of something less bloody: like old age or some disease...that happens to come of old age.

What a fool he was.

A hush fell over the arena and Shadow looked up again at Nicola. Her hand was raised in a gesture for silence, and her steely violet eyes seemed to level the crowd before her. Through the sound of the wind howling, Shadow could hear the sonorous ringing of the Shadow Temple's bell tower. Nicola spoke.

"It is time for the Ceremony of Honor to commence. Those who stand in this arena do not fight for power, but for honor. They have been stripped of title and ranking. There is no honor in mercy, and in these walls none will be found. If you value your life more than the titles of King or Queen, now is your chance to leave."

Shadow nearly scoffed. These people knew what the stakes were in this sick game of "honor-" they wouldn't be standing here, staring staring staring at him otherwise. No one moved from where they stood. The bells continued to ring.

"Here there is honor found only in two places: victory, or death. In the end, only a lone victor may be crowned sovereign."

The last chime reverberated through the air, the sound carried in on the howling wind.

"You may begin."

Shadow drew his sword and darted forward, swinging it in a wide arc. Inky darkness burst from the ground at his feet, yanking challengers into the path of his sword. Blood misted the air- the people in the stands roared. The sound was nearly deafening, but Shadow paid no mind.

Someone's sword clashed with his, sparks flying as steel grated against steel. Shadow parried his opponent's thrust, knocking the wielder off balance before whirling around to bury his sword to the hilt in a person's gut. Steel bit into his side- he kicked the body off of his blade and jabbed his elbow into the face of his assailant with a crunch. Shadow spun around to bury his blade in that person too.

Suddenly the ground erupted underneath him, throwing him and the challengers around him into the air. Shadow slammed into a wall, wheezing as the air was driven from his lungs. His sword clattered to the ground at his side- coughing and gasping, he sliced the palm of his hand open as he groped for the handle. Pain flared white-hot, making him hiss in discomfort. Someone yelled gutturally, and he looked up to see a woman in leather armour, charging at him with an axe. Shadow raised his hand and a wide ring of eerie blue flame flared in a ring around him.

The woman tried to stumble to a stop, but she was too late- with a cry she tumbled into the fire. Screaming filled the air- the scent of burning flesh filled his nose, and for a moment Shadow stared, captivated by her body writhing in the flames. Then a knife embedded itself into the wall behind his head, nicking his ear on its path.

"Come out and fight-" Someone jeered at him as he stumbled to his feet. "-coward!"

Coward.

 _"-coward! Hiding in the shadows! Why don't you make like one and fade away!"_

Shadow snarled, pulse thrumming in his veins, the world stilling in sharp relief around him.

 _"Do I **look** weak to you? Can't you **feel** my strength?"_

Shadow charged.


	8. Recumbentibus

_Recumbentibus_

 _Noun._ The final, winning argument.

* * *

Blood was everywhere. It soaked the ground, dripped off the blade of his sword, and stained the dark fabric of his tunic. Every harsh breath was a struggle to not choke on the red mist still settling in the air. Scorch marks scored the floor of the arena, and bodies-so many bodies- covered the rest. The palm of his hand stung- the cut in his side stung worse. Blood dripped down his cheek- he was lucky to still have his eye.

The spectators were roaring. The wind still howled.

Shadow turned around to look up at the podium where Nicola still stood. She raised her hand for silence, and a hush swept over the arena. Shadow suppressed a shudder, aware again of all the eyes staring at him.

"I see you are still standing." She said, her voice ringing loud and clear through the arena. To her left, Queen Midna reclined in her seat, her vivid orange hair in an intricate braid that pooled down to her lap. She smiled at him and nodded. To her right, Dark glared down at Shadow, his arms crossed- and to his left, Queen Hilda sat straight backed in her chair, red eyes narrowed at him and staff held tight in her grip.

"Does anybody else wish to challenge him?" The people in the stands said nothing, only stared.

"What more does he need to prove?" Midna asked, her eyes flicking to look over at Hilda and Dark. "He's defeated more than enough powerful warriors in the last hour. His honor is more than defended. _I_ certainly won't challenge him."

"That's because you have always been _weak_." Hilda hissed, standing up. "He'll find no mercy from me."

"Complacency does not mean weakness." Midna shot back, giving her a menacing look. "You'd do well to remember how long _I_ ruled before passing the throne to the shadows. You'd do well to remember exactly _how old I am,_ as well."

"It was under _your_ rule that the kingdom got usurped by an agent of the Demon King's." Dark said quietly. "You may be older and wiser than we are, but if you were truly as strong as you say you were, no one should have been able to touch the kingdom but you."

"Are you both intending to challenge him?" Nicola interjected calmly, knocking her knuckles on the podium railing. Hilda's mouth snapped shut, and she disappeared in a whirl of purple magic. Dark nodded solemnly, then he vaulted over the railing, landing on the floor of the arena. Magic glowed beside him, and Hilda took her place.

Shadow readied his sword.

"Then you may begin."

Magic arced along the ground, racing towards where Shadow stood, ripping through the bodies on the ground. Shadow threw up a shield of shadows-the sound of colliding magic thundered through the arena as his shield exploded, throwing him back. He crashed through a pile of his slain foes, their weapons grazing and nicking him as he rolled. Smoke rolled over the floor.

"Stand and fight!" Dark's voice sounded from above, and Shadow looked up to see a blade aimed for his head. He barely had enough time to grab the nearest weapon- a crudely made club- and block it. Metal buried inches deep into solid wood-Shadow surged upwards, muscles straining against Dark's strength as he shoved him back.

Magic flashed to their right as Hilda warped next to them, smacking Shadow away with her staff. He gasped in pain as he stumbled back, hand clutching at the wound in his side. Hilda laughed cruelly.

"Surprised?" She asked, smirking.

"Fuck you." Shadow snarled, gaze flitting back and forth between her and Dark, who was dislodging the club from his blade. He melted into shadows, darting from place to place around the two rulers.

"Come out, come out little Shadow~" Hilda taunted as she and Dark scanned the arena floor warily. She tossed a ball of magic up and down, up and down in one hand. "You can't hide forever."

Up and down, up and down, up and-

Multiple Shadows rose from the ground in quick succession until there was a veritable army of clones surrounding Dark and Hilda. Some held weapons scavenged from fallen warriors, others held nothing- the real Shadow had recovered his sword. Fury burned in his gut. Shadow and his many, many duplicates converged on the two pseudo-rulers, threading between them like an incoming tide between rocks and forcing them apart.

Hilda threw up a shield of magic, shouting indignantly as clones converged on it like a battering ram. A massive boom shook the arena, and the shield shuddered under the force of a hundred clones.

At the same time Dark whirled and sliced, slaying clones left and right, with only wisps of smoky magic left behind. One clone slammed his fist into Dark's chin at the exact moment that Dark's sword sliced through his middle, evaporating him in a puff of black magic. Another shouted as he charged forward with a dagger- Dark sidestepped him and slammed the pommel of his sword into his head, evaporating him as well.

Then, when Dark wasn't looking, the real Shadow rammed the hilt of his sword into Dark's stomach. The air in Dark's lungs rushed out. With a startled gasp, he dropped to his knees, swinging his sword recklessly at where Shadow had been moments before.

"Cheater-!" He hissed, roaring with frustration as the Shadow clones converged on him, trying to pin him down.

"Such an idiot-" One Shadow laughed. "-everything goes in this dance of death!" Another Shadow finished, ripping Dark's sword from his hand.

The real Shadow watched him struggle for a moment, then turned towards Hilda. His ears were ringing and he couldn't tell if it was from the rabid roaring of the crowd in the stands or from the sound of his own blood pounding through his veins. Hundreds of his clones still pounded at Hilda's shield, shouting and taunting her.

"Why don't _you_ come out?!"

"Who's hiding now?"

"Who's weak now?"

"Who's the _bloody coward NOW?!"_

Shadow flexed his grip on his sword, brow furrowing. His ears kept ringing. He lifted his sword to the sky, drawing every available ounce of magic left in his body. His clones dissolved into inky magic that coalesced around Shadow like a whirlwind. Dark shoved himself to his feet and Hilda- mistaking the clones' dismissal as a retreat- dropped her shield. The funnel of magic surrounding Shadow shrunk-

-and then he was spinning. His sword was a blurred arc of steel, whistling through the air. Magic pulsed outwards in a violent explosion. The arena shuddered with the force of the blow- one of the supporting pillars cracked and collapsed, dirt and dust billowing up to mix with the leftover traces of magic.

The arena was silent. No one dared to breathe. They only stared.

Shadow stumbled towards the podium and looked up at Nicola, whose face was painted with disconcertion. She raised her fist into the air.

"The victor is Shadow." Nicola declared, her voice wavering noticeably. "He will now decide the fate of Queen Hilda and of the warlord, Dark."

Two attendants rushed into the arena, picking their way through the bodies covering the floor where Dark and Hilda lay cradled by separate caved in walls. Shadow watched them hollowly, and was not surprised to see Dark weakly try to push the attendant away and drag himself to his feet- he did not succeed, and leaned heavily on the attendant for support as he limped his way towards Shadow. Hilda was worse off- much to her mortification, the attendant had to carry her across the field. Both were made to kneel before Shadow.

He took in their haggard appearance- the blood leaking from their noses and Dark's split lip, the blood staining Hilda's hair black before dripping down her pale face. They looked at him with an equal mix of stubborn hatred, proud anger, begrudging respect, and beneath that, intense pain. With one swift move, making both of them flinch-

-he sheathed his sword. The sound echoed through the silent arena.

Shadow said nothing; he didn't _have_ to. His action spoke louder than he could have at that moment; knowing this, he turned and started to walk away.

"Why are you sparing us?" Hilda asked, her voice strained. Shadow stilled. "Is it because you're weak? Too cowardly to finish the job?" She spat on the ground. Dark's brow furrowed, but from the way his jaw set it was clear he agreed with her.

"I'm sparing you because I _pity_ you, and your pointless lust for power." Shadow replied quietly, his voice hoarse but steady. "I've proven my strength to everyone here- all _you_ have proven is that you don't know how to accept defeat gracefully."

 _"I should flay your skin from your bones-!"_ Hilda shrieked-

 _"You insolent brat-"_ Dark hissed-

Shadow whirled around.

"I HAVE _DEFEATED_ YOU, AND I HAVE CHOSEN TO GIVE YOU _MERCY!"_ He roared, startling both of them into silence. "YOU WILL _NOT_ CHALLENGE ME AGAIN!"

Shadow looked down at them. His eyes shone like the blood that permeated every inch of the colosseum.

 _"Long live the king."_


	9. Nebulochaotic

_Nebulochaotic_

 _Adjective._ A state of being hazy and confused.

* * *

The priests were waiting for him when he stepped into the atrium just outside the arena. Nicola walked briskly into the room shortly after, stopping at his side.

"That was some show you put on," She murmured to him. Distracted, Shadow didn't reply, too busy staring down the priests. "I thought you killed them both."

' _I thought you_ would _kill them is what you mean.'_ Shadow thought absently. ' _I knew I couldn't kill them just by fighting them. You don't just_ kill _one of the most powerful sorceresses in the world. You don't just_ kill _the descendant of the warrior that fought the Hero of Time.'_

' _You earn their respect, and sometimes only barely that.'_

There were three priests, all dressed in floor-length black robes and smooth wooden masks painted with a vivid, crying red eye. Their hoods were up, covering the rest of their heads, and they stepped towards him as a single unit. The cloth of their robes undulated like smoke around their feet- Shadow shuddered, unnerved.

"You will have to be healed before we begin." One of them said, their voice gravely and unpleasant to listen to. "You risk death otherwise. If you will follow us, we will attend to you."

Shadow nodded silently. Nicola's hand slipped into his and he squeezed it reflexively before pulling away, stepping forward. The three priests turned and strode down one of the palace corridors- Shadow followed.

They brought him to a small room where one of the castle healers waited, seated on a fainting couch next to a tray with a bottle of blue potion, a cloth, and a bowl of steaming water. Shadow watched and waited as the healer took a tiny spoonful of the potion- it would be all too easy to be poisoned before he had a chance to finish the coronation. Nobody wanted to sit through the same killing spree twice- everyone who bothered enough to want to kill him was either dead or too cowardly to face him directly.

He waited. Nothing happened- the healer didn't keel over, choking, or coughing up blood, or start clawing at her stomach in agony.

 _Could be a slow acting poison,_ Shadow thought, _but I don't exactly have the time to find out._

He pulled off his tunic and undershirt- leaving his bracers on- grimacing at the stiffness in the fabric from all the blood that had soaked into it. The healer handed him the potion, and he downed it in a couple of swift gulps as she cleaned the caked blood off of his skin and around where he'd been injured. He could feel the potion's magic slowly stitching his wounds shut and sighed, half-relieved.

"Here."

Shadow looked up at one of the priests, who handed him a robe.

"It wouldn't do to be wearing those bloody rags before the inking ceremony. Wear this for now." They said. Shadow nodded, and put it on, grateful for the sensation of clean clothing on his skin. The healer checked over his wounds again- and found nothing but faint scars.

"He may proceed." She said. The three priests turned, leaving the room and once again leaving Shadow to follow- so he did.

Shadow eyed the entrance to the Shadow Temple as he walked out of an archway leading to the temple courtyard. It was a square, undecorated building made of black marble, and although it didn't rise any higher than the castle wall it still managed to look imposing.

As the massive wooden doors creaked open and Shadow was ushered in, he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He'd never liked this place. It felt oppressive, dangerous and unclean despite the staff's careful maintenance of the grounds and interior. Praying in this place- as he had done so many times when he was young and attending ceremonies with his mother- felt wrong.

Looking at the rectangular pool of black water enclosed in the temple proper, he couldn't contain his shudder, no matter how hard he tried.

Shadow was led past the pool, up to the altar at the back of the room. To his surprise, one of the priests swept aside a curtain behind the altar to reveal a simple wooden door. The sight made his stomach churn from nerves, but he set his shoulders and lifted his chin as he was led inside.

"Strip." One of the priests commanded, two of them breaking away from the others to stride towards a long plain table in the center of the room. As Shadow watched and pulled the robe from his shoulders, they covered the table in a white cloth and retrieved a tray from the bare shelf in the room. He kicked off his boots, socks, pants, until he was standing there in his braies and bracers; watched still as the third priest lit candles housed in the room's alcoves.

The first priest set to arranging items on the tray- a chisel made of bone, a clean cloth, a vial of softly glowing ink. Shadow trained his eyes on it, his brows furrowed; he nearly jumped when one of the priests cleared their throat.

"Your gauntlets, too." They said, turning to face him. With unnerving synchronicity, the other two did the same. Shadow stared the three of them down for a minute, before sighing through his nose and unbuckling his gauntlets, letting them drop down to the floor. He glared at the priests, daring them to say something about the thorns encircling his wrist.

"We weren't aware you were betrothed."

' _Well, fuck.'_ Shadow thought, even as he lifted his head and schooled his features.

"Last I checked, it's only your business if and when there's a...marriage." He said, swiftly crossing the room to stand by the table. "Well?"

The three priests said nothing.


End file.
